A Trash Can and The Way I Feel

Hurt and battered, splattered and splayed, almost betrayed...when you give someone the world why can't they share it? I mean sharing is caring in a world of pink possums that hang in a row like love bugs that take tow, smashed on the grill of life, their hell without Halloween, once a queen, always a pauper, a beggar, a talker. A lover of the unloved, as gentle as a dove but mad as a wet hornet and the words damn scorn it, because if I could REALLY say the way I feel right now....the words would do best in the trash can....in never ever land.